


Worth Mentioning

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6742246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is being nosy about Octavia's love life (but what else is new). Clarke is just trying to figure out why this guy is standing around in her coffee shop without buying anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Mentioning

“Can I help you?”

Bellamy looks up at the intrusion, startled and a little embarrassed. He’d thought he was being inconspicuous, but there’s not much of a line at the counter right now so he can’t exactly blame the barista for keeping an eye on the randomly lurking guy by the door.

“I’m good. But thanks,” he says, shooting the blonde a small smile and moving to turn back to the drawing in front of him.

It’s a pen and ink sketch of a familiar face, and it’s _good_. It’s more than just her likeness; the artist has captured her spirit. The fierce determination in her eyes, the playful chaos in her smile. It’s Octavia, through and through. Whoever drew this clearly knows her.

“You waiting for someone?” The barista asks, suddenly at his elbow. Her name tag introduces her as Clarke. She’s taller than he would have thought, only a few inches shorter than he is, and not intimidated by him at all. Not that he actively tries to be intimidating. But he’d hoped the brush-off he’d given her would have done enough to get her to leave him alone.

“Not exactly. Or– not at all.”

“You gonna buy something?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he says honestly. Last he heard, that was usually considered the best policy and he’s hoping it will work for him now.

“Color me intrigued.” She’s got a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she turns to take in the portrait of his sister. “You know that we’re a coffee shop, right? Not an art museum.”

“You know, I thought something was off.” He feels victorious when this pulls a slightly larger smile from her lips.

“Glad I could clarify for you.” She studies the drawing for another moment, then studies him with the same scrutiny. “Is this particular piece of interest to you, or are you some sort of cafe art decor critic?”

“This is going to sound weird–”

“No weirder than the explanations I’ve come up with so far,” she assures him.

“Yeah?” He laughs, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Besides the critic?” She taps her chin in mock thought, inadvertently drawing attention to her lips as she does so. She’s already beautiful, he doesn’t need another reason to stare at her mouth. “Sleepwalking definitely crossed my mind. Or maybe you’re someone’s bodyguard, getting paid to lurk professionally.”

“I’m that good at it, huh?”

“You’re a natural.” She turns back to the drawing, as if it holds the answer. She’s probably looking at it the same way he has been for the past twenty minutes. “So what is it about this portrait that hooked you?”

“It’s not so much the art as it is the artist,” he confesses, running a sheepish hand through his messy hair. “Well, that’s why I came here in the first place: to see his work. But this one– This is my sister. And if you knew her, you’d know it’s– It’s Octavia.”

“Are you two close?”

“Ridiculously.”

“So she told you she was up on our wall and you just had to come see for yourself?” Clarke guesses.

“This is the weird part.”

“Oh, _this_ is the weird part? Good. I was disappointed because, well, it’s not that weird so far.”

“Do you give all your customers this hard a time?” He teases, laughing despite himself. “I’m no businessman, but that doesn’t seem like a great strategy.”

“You’re not technically my customer,” she reminds him. “Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. I’m ready for the weird. Bring it on.”

“Right. So, I kind of– found out she has a boyfriend. Accidentally.” Clarke raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “No, really. I was grabbing takeout earlier this week and I saw her on a date with him. I panicked and left, which is just as well because if I had interrupted she definitely would have been mad.”

“And instead of asking her about it, you somehow found your way here.”

“I did ask her about it,” he tells her, trying not to get defensive. He doesn’t know this girl. He shouldn’t care what she thinks of him. “Or– I asked her generally about her love life. She said there was nothing to tell. But then she got tagged in something on Facebook, and the guy was in the photo with his arm around her–”

Clarke hums in understanding.

“So you clicked through and found out he’s an artist–”

“And that his work is being shown here for the month,” Bellamy nods. “I thought I’d come check it out.”

“Because you’re one of those overprotective big brother types?”

“Because maybe this way I’ll have satisfied my curiosity enough I can be patient and let her tell me about him when she’s ready,” he corrects her. She raises her eyebrows again and he relents. “But also the overprotective thing.”

“His name is Lincoln,” Clarke offers, ignoring Bellamy when he gapes. “Which you probably got from his profile. He does web design for money, with comic illustration and fine art on the side for fun. He’s a good guy, and he and Octavia claim they’re taking things slow but they’re both pretty smitten.”

“So you know him.”

“He’s my best friend.” Clarke motions for him to follow her back to the register, where she leans against the counter and appraises him. “You’re Bellamy, then?”

“That’s me.”

“Cool. Good to meet you. I’ve only met your sister once, when she came to see Lincoln’s stuff here, but you were in like half of her stories.”

“Only half?”

Clarke snorts and straightens, starting to prepare some drink he doesn’t know heads or tails about.

“Lincoln’s a good guy. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about, really. I mean, I am worried about him. Don’t get me wrong. But I’m more concerned with the fact that she feels like she can’t tell me about him.”

“Do you guys normally talk about relationship stuff?”

“Not really.” Thinking over it, Bellamy can’t actually remember the last time he and his sister talked about their dating lives. “She dated a guy in high school and I scared him away because I was a dick back then–”

“As opposed to now,” Clarke teases, and he marvels at how quickly she’s got him pegged.

“I’m a different kind of dick now. And she kind of helped me process after my last breakup? I don’t know. Neither of us date that much. I honestly can’t remember the last time we talked about that kind of thing.”

“So maybe that’s all it is,” Clarke suggests. He feels his forehead crease with worry.

“We talk about important stuff, though. And trivial stuff. I never really gave it much thought but I kind of figured once there was someone in her life worth talking about, she would tell me.”

“Then maybe it’s not about you at all. Maybe she just doesn’t know yet if whatever she and Lincoln have going on is big enough to bring up. Here.” She slides him the drink she’s been preparing. “On the house.”

“Generous, since you didn’t let me order it.”

“I tried to get you to order. I figure this way you might become a return customer.” She makes a punching motion in the air. It’s downright _cute_. “Who’s the customer service expert now?”

“Not sure this– what is this?”

“Iced green tea latte.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not sure this tea thingy makes up for ragging on me.”

“No,” she agrees. “But that’s what the free advice is for.”

He takes a tentative sip, and then another. Whatever it is, it’s refreshing and sweet and has no coffee in it. Between the delicious menu and the pretty employees, he might actually have to become a return customer.

“If your advice is on par with your barista skills, I should probably listen to you,” he admits grudgingly.

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” she grins. “You want me to tell you what I think you should do?”

“Can’t hurt.”

“I think you should probably just turn around.”

Bellamy does, dread in the pit of his stomach, and is not surprised at all to find Octavia walking in with a guy– _Lincoln_ , he corrects himself– trailing after her and looking at her like she’s personally responsible for every good thing in the world.

“Bell?” Octavia says, stopping short in surprise. Lincoln follows her gaze and the smile drains from his face. Bellamy can hear Clarke snickering behind him.

“Busted,” she whispers.

“Thanks,” he snarks back. “Hey, O. Funny story…”

He and his sister snag a table on the far side of the shop. Octavia doesn’t think it’s nearly as humorous as Clarke seems to think it is, and hearing her giggle at Lincoln where they’re standing by the register isn’t helping him feel focused and properly repentant about his nosing around Octavia’s personal business.

Lincoln, at least, looks slightly nervous. Bellamy thinks he can work with that.

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Octavia sighs, like merely speaking about this to her brother physically exhausts her. “It’s not that I don’t want you to know stuff about my life. But it’s _my_ life. I thought we worked on boundaries.”

“I know. We did. And I’m trying to respect them. That’s why I–”

“Stalked him on social media and then at his friend’s coffee shop instead of asking me directly?”

“When you say it like that it sounds bad,” he grumbles. “I was trying to not make too big of a deal out of the fact that you were keeping it quiet. I figured you’d talk about him when you thought he was worth talking about.”

“He’s definitely worth talking about,” Octavia says, and Bellamy even thinks she’s blushing. He can’t remember the last time he saw her blush. He likes Lincoln marginally more already.

“Cool. I can’t wait to actually meet him.” Bellamy offers her a small smile, a peace offering that she returns.

“What about you?” Octavia asks, nudging his knee with her foot.

Bellamy’s smile widens as he thinks about the humor dancing in Clarke’s eyes, the easy confidence in her posture, the curve of her lips, her insistent defense of her friend.

“Anyone worth talking about in your life?” Octavia prods, not having missed his expression.

He just shrugs and sips his drink, Clarke's phone number scrawled artfully on the side of his cup.

“I’ll keep you posted.”


End file.
